


Ashes

by saturatedParadoxes



Series: Peeling [27]
Category: Undertale
Genre: humantale, i lied the sadness never stops!!, i wrote this kinda vaguely, sans is fudiging sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturatedParadoxes/pseuds/saturatedParadoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His grave is not your bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

You curl your fingers around a bouquet of wilting roses and don't pay any mind to the thorns burrowing in your flesh. You look at the bouquet, which had been secured with a golden locket. 

You wanted this to be an unreal mess. Something you'd imagined. Something other than this. You went to mess with the locket on your neck, but then remembered that you'd put it around the bouquet, to make sure that it...

You laid the roses next to him and rubbed the locket for the last time. His face had a soft expression, almost as if he was asleep, but it wasn't rest, at least the kind you hoped.

You couldn't remember what happened exactly that day.

But you were at home now. Empty, quiet, and alone. Dad wasn't home, and everything hurts, on both a physical and emotional level. You couldn't move. You couldn't think. You were numb. You were hungry. You hadn't ate in a few days.

You really wanted some spaghetti, so you tried to move, your bones hurt, but you managed to move anyways. You walked to the fridge and opened it, there was quite a few containers of spaghetti left over, so you took the first container you could and opened it and reached for a fork, you ended up with the messed up one, but couldn't care less, and you began shoveling the cold noodles into your mouth, the noodles had been hardened, and the sauce wasn't as good as you remembered, but it was still enough to make you cry.

Your chest hurt a lot, but despite this, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were on the floor of the kitchen and, to your shock, your father was asleep next to you. He looked peaceful enough, because that's how sleep works.

Then you fell asleep again, and you felt your soul. It burned in your chest, and you heard a faint whisper.

"Restart, please."

"You can't do this anymore."

"It's what's right, Sans."

"Do it for him."

You wanted to cry.

"I can't."

"You can."

"I just..." Everything felt hot "I can't do it."

"Please, you can do it, my child."

Burst.

Start over.

You curled your hands around your locket and pointed out a rose bush to Papyrus, to which he said "Wilted roses are pretty."


End file.
